


Silence

by attemptedauthor



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, idk what to put here basically just jack and crutchie being dorks, pre strike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attemptedauthor/pseuds/attemptedauthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crutchie and Jack found they never needed too many words to express what they're feeling— what they're feeling for one another seems to be a different story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

Crutchie would be content to spend an afternoon with Jack and not exchange a single word. 

They never get a whole afternoon, because of plenty of reasons; other boys talking to them, the job, getting caught up with other things. Which is both fine and reasonable, because they never plan to spend time together. It just happens. Crutchie heads to the roof and finds Jack there. Jack stumbles across Crutchie on their way back the Lodging House at the end of the day and they walk back together.

Crutchie certainly likes being around the other newsies, no doubt about it. But Jack… Jack is something else. 

Jack is cocky and loud and has a presence, and when he talks, people listen. He’s ridiculous and almost obnoxious, and Crutchie supposes authority figures must hate him, which is probably partly what Jack is going for. And sometimes, when it’s just them, Jack isn’t loud at all. They sit and make small talk, and then the small talk gets bigger, and Jack’s eyes light up when he talks about Santa Fe. 

He sticks his tongue out when he draws, Crutchie’s noticed, the same way he’s noticed the way Jack brushes his hair out of his eyes and the way he twirls his pencil as he looks for something to draw. 

Sometimes he stares while Jack is drawing. Jack looks up every once in awhile, and Crutchie looks away quickly, trying to pretend he wasn't staring at all.

++++

Jack doesn’t know how Crutchie does it. Crutchie never seems to have an outburst, never seems to get mad at life for landing him where it has, like so many of them. Crutchie’s one of the worst off of all of them, and somehow he’s the happiest. 

He doesn’t know where he would be without Crutchie, either. Maybe Jack’s the unofficial leader, of a sort, but he doesn’t think he should be. Sometimes he says that out loud, and Crutchie gives him a reassurance and a smile so genuine it makes his doubts disappear. 

_“Always happy”_ isn’t the right word, although that’s what most would say, it’s just Crutchie’s always _there._ To listen, to talk to, to offer a story or word of advice himself. The boy can light up a room just by being there, and Jack thinks that’s amazing.

Sometimes, Crutchie asks him what he’s drawing. Most days, Jack lies and says he’s drawing the skyline, or Santa Fe, or a house, or something else inconsequential. Some days that’s not a lie. And very rarely, Crutchie looks over his shoulder and sees that Jack’s drawing him. 

He acts like it’s an honor every time, saying something about flattering exaggerations, but smiling wide all the same.

Jack wonders how he’d react if he knew exactly how many drawings there are of him.

++++

It’s a quiet night; the sun is getting lower, most of the newsies are starting to settle in, but Crutchie and Jack have yet to go inside. Crutchie is laying down on the roof, hands under his head like a pillow, eyes closed, relaxing. Jack sits by him, cross-legged, telling an animated story with various hand gestures.

“...So I asked him what he thought he was doing, and you know what he said?”

“No,” mutters Crutchie lazily, smiling a little at the question. “But I wasn’t there.”

Jack laughs and ruffles Crutchie’s hair, before continuing on with his story. “He said, ‘nothing’.” Jack snorts “Nothin’. As if. Anyway, after a moment of him looking scared shitless, I helped him get the food. His face was real funny though, when I first caught him.”

Crutchie cracks open an eyelid. He considers telling Jack off for scaring the stranger, and then for helping commit a crime that’s already landed him in the refuge once, but he knows Jack’ll laugh it off and say something like a near miss still being a miss. So Crutchie just rolls his eyes, even though Jack can’t really see the gesture, and closes them again.

“You really are something, Jack Kelly.”

“I should hope so. Else I’m not doing anything worthwhile, am I?” When Crutchie opens his eyes, Jack is giving him a shit-eating grin, and Crutchie moves enough to pull his arm out from under his head and swat Jack in the knee. 

“Don’t be so sure that was a compliment.”

“I know it was,” says Jack, and Crutchie hits him again, but he’s still laughing, because they both know it was. They lapse into small giggles, and then silence. Crutchie stares up at the sky and Jack stares out at the skyline of the city, elbows resting on his knees and head resting on his hands.

“I hope he’s okay,” says Jack, and doesn’t wait for Crutchie to ask before answering, “The kid. If he’s in a bad enough place to steal, one incident ain’t gonna help too much. He disappeared soon as he had what he wanted, though. No idea where he got to.”

Crutchie doesn’t bother with false words like ‘it’ll be fine’. He just nods. “You did what you could. It ain’t your fault, y’know? No one’d blame you or anything.” Crutchie tilts his head back far enough to see Jack nod, although he doesn’t look convinced. 

Jack’s always been the hero type. He tries to pretend he doesn’t care, it’s obvious enough to anyone who’s close to him that that’s not true. Crutchie pushes himself to a sitting position and slides over until he’s sitting next to Jack. He leans into Jack’s shoulder and Jack’s arm wraps around him with a practiced motion before he drops his head onto Crutchie. Jack sighs, and in that sigh is every conversation they’ve had like this one. How unfair life is here, how they could do better, how the streets drain people of life. 

But he doesn’t say any of that. “Y’know, I’m sure glad I met you.” 

The words don’t encompass anywhere near how he feels about Crutchie, what a lifesaver he’s been, anything. But he doesn’t really know if there are words to express any extent of what he feels. So he just says what he can manage.

"Me too," says Crutchie.

And though the sun is going down, and in a few minutes they'll have to go back inside, for the moment, the two of them sit side by side, arms around each other, trying to not think of anything else than the moment they're living.

++++

Crutchie hates being reduced to his limp. He hates being called a crip, hates being told the reason he's worth anything or worth nothing is because of his limp.

Most people he’s around get it, and they’re used to him. 

But new kids. People on the street. People who look at him with pity and give him a dime for a pape— he doesn’t want charity because he has to use a crutch, despite how the other boys fake injuries and illnesses. 

People who drop snide comments just loud enough for him to hear.

He tries to ignore it, and most of the time, he’s good at tuning it out, and it’s better not to dwell on it anyway. But sometimes, it gets to him. Days that he’s tripped up on purpose or by accident and has to struggle to get to his feet in a crowded street. Days he comes back bitter and upset even though he knows he just needs to let it pass. That it doesn't matter. 

On those days, Jack grabs whatever moments they have in the afternoon and pulls him away from the other boys. They don't say much on these occasions, but Crutchie buries his face in Jack's shoulder and Jack's hands wrap around Crutchie's waist, and they find they don't really need words.

+++

Sometimes, Jack Kelly can keep his temper. 

The times when people make fun of his friends are not among these times.

Even though he’s used to the occasional chatty customers— some are good conversation, and some come back to him if he talks to them— but the man he’s putting up with now is making his blood boil. They’ve somehow gotten to him complaining about the work ethic and standards of the city, and about the lower class, not seeming to comprehend he’s talking to a _newsboy._

Or maybe he does, because now he’s talking about how he passed various other newsies and didn’t buy a paper, which almost makes Jack wish he hadn’t sold one to the man, even if he did get a quarter. 

Jack’s trying to block out the conversation when the man mentions spotting a specific newsie with a crutch, and suddenly Jack’s back to being fully engaged in this conversation. The man seems startled when Jack’s tired _“uh-huh”_ s turn to fully attentive, if emotionless, responses. 

The man doesn’t get far into his ignorant comments (which include the words “useless” and “good for nothing”) before Jack completely loses his emotionless front and punches the man in the face.

Jack comes back to the the Lodging House with a bloody fist and a foul mood, brushing off questions about what happened and storming to his bunk. It’s Crutchie who approaches him, timidly speaking up.

“What happened?” Jack reads this sentence to have an unspoken _that looks bad_ in it, and his concern is what gets Jack, slowly, talking.

“Insultin’ customer. Hope I never come across him again, either I’ll knock him out or get locked up for my troubles.”

Crutchie tries to look disapproving, but fails and starts laughing. Despite his foul mood, Jack cracks a smile. 

“What’d he say?” says Crutchie as the laughter subsides, and he goes back to handling the situation responsibly.

Jack’s smile falters a little, because he can tell Crutchie won’t like his reasoning, just as he can already tell, despite the laughter, he doesn’t really like the fact that Jack got into a fight at all. Aside from the fact that the boys usually fight their own battles, Crutchie’s never been one to endorse violence, especially in his name. “Some stuff. Y’know,” mutters Jack, and Crutchie raising an eyebrow. Jack sighs. “Some stuff about you. Saw you sellin’ on the way to me, and I didn’t like what he had to say.”

_“Jack.”_

Jack immediately leaps to the defence. “You weren’t around to say anything, was I supposed to let him just keep talking?”

“Yeah!” says Crutchie sharply, and pauses before adding, quieter, “It doesn’t matter. Don’t get yourself into trouble ‘cause of me, I ain’t worth it.”

“Yes you are,” there’s a hard edge to Jack’s voice, because he needs Crutchie to get it. To Jack’s surprise, Crutchie opens his mouth to retaliate, before closing it and turning red. Jack takes the moment of silence to add, just as fiercely, “You’re the best person I ever met, and you’d be worth broken bones or more if it came to that.”

Jack has no idea if Crutchie believes him, but after a moment of consideration, Crutchie cracks a smile, cheeks still a bit red. 

“Okay,” he says, grinning like this is the first time he’s heard someone cares about him that much. 

Jack barely thinks about how his heart skips a beat when Crutchie grins at him.

+++

Crutchie realizes fast. 

Just like he realized fast that he liked boys instead of girls, realized fast that couldn’t be public knowledge, that when it came up in conversation he had to smile and nod and pretend the talk of girls interested him at all.

And now, he’s realizing that he likes Jack Kelly. 

He doesn’t know why it’s Jack. How can he? But it’s _unfair,_ because Jack is so close and so far at the same time.

He doesn’t say anything about it because it won’t— _can’t—_ happen. A small part of him hopes, that maybe, Jack feels the same, maybe they could keep it secret, maybe, _maybe—_

But he can’t afford more than just a hope, because if Jack doesn’t feel the same (which he _doesn’t_ ), Crutchie’s not going to ruin their friendship for it.

It’s not worth it, and he’d rather have Jack as his best friend than not at all.

+++

Jack stumbles upon his feelings for Crutchie, as though they suddenly popped into his path and he has no idea how they got there, which is true enough. But all of the sudden Crutchie’s smile goes from endearing straight to enchanting, and Jack’s trying to spend more and more time with him. 

He has no idea what to do with this feeling, so he sets it to the side. If Crutchie doesn’t feel the same, it doesn’t matter.

But that doesn’t stop him from getting a little distracted when Crutchie talks to him.

+++

If anything, since Crutchie’s come to terms with his feelings for Jack, Jack seems to want to be around him more. Even though he loves Jack, loves being around him, Crutchie wishes he wouldn’t. It makes it harder, somehow, and he’s finding himself avoiding Jack the more Jack seeks his company. 

It’s around the third time Crutchie declines being alone with Jack that Jack looks concerned and hurt, but he nods and smiles and accepts Crutchie’s excuse even though they both know it’s not true. 

After the fifth time, Jack catches him just as they’re just about to go back to the Lodging House. “Hey, Crutchie, listen, I was just— I was just noticing, we ain’t spending near as much time as we used to together, and I was just wondering— if you— if there was anything wrong, or..?” Jack trails off, and Crutchie’s caught like a deer in the headlights, scrambling to come up with an answer. Jack seems to take this as a _‘Yes, something’s wrong’,_ and his look of concern grows as he says, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Crutchie bites his lip, because yes, he does want to talk about it, yes, but he can’t, so he says nothing, which doesn't make Jack any less concerned. 

“We can go up to the roof?” suggests Jack, and after a moment, Crutchie nods, even though he’s unsure whether he’s going to say anything at all.

When they’re at the top of the Lodging House, Crutchie takes his usual spot, but instead of relaxing he sits up straight and fidgets, staring at his hands instead of Jack.

Even if he’d tried to pretend nothing was different, here they were, because Crutchie’s actions are pushing them apart. And he doesn’t know how to fix it, not without spilling a secret he’d taught himself to keep for the longest time. 

But he did want to say _something._ Anything. To anyone. And if anyone wasn’t going to change their opinion of Crutchie because of who he liked, it was Jack. 

It just made things so much more complicated that he liked _Jack._

“Look, Crutchie,” starts Jack, sitting down next to him, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want, I ain’t gonna press you. I just… wanna know if I did something or anything like that.”

Crutchie looks up at Jack quickly, eyes wide. “No— no Jack, you ain’t done nothing, I swear—”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Jack puts a hand on Crutchie’s shoulder, and offers a smile. “That was all, I just wanted to make sure. If you don’t wanna say anything else, I won’t ask.” There’s another moment of silence, and then Jack gets up and starts to walk away.

Now or never. Crutchie makes a split second decision, and calls after him. “Jack!”

Jack spins around, and takes a few steps to sit back down beside Crutchie, waiting for him to say something.

“I—uhm—” Crutchie’s words are getting tangled and he doesn’t really even know what he’s going to say, so he says everything all at once. “I ain’t your fault, Jack, I’ve been avoiding you. It’s cause I was stupid enough to think I could pretend I’m not in love with you, that I could just keep things the way they were and not say anything, that I could ignore the fact that I like boys and always have, and I’m sorry, and I understand if you wanna stop talking to me, but it ain’t your fault—” Crutchie cuts himself off and looks down at his feet, squeezing his eyes shut, listening for Jack. A movement, speech— _anything,_ any reaction.

Seconds turn to minutes and just as Crutchie is about to pick up his crutch and leave without Jack reacting at all, Jack responds. 

“Me too.”

Crutchie opens his eyes, blinking. “What?”

Jack looks unsure of himself, which is a rare sight to see, but he clears his throat and tries to explain. “I… me too. I feel the same— about you, I…” He doesn’t finish, but it’s enough for Crutchie. He laughs, releasing all the pent up tension he’d had from talking to Jack, from keeping a secret, and then leans into him and rests his head on Jack’s chest, feeling more tired and relieved than anything else.

Jack wraps his arms around Crutchie, as he usually does, and is silent a for moment or two, before asking, “So, what now?”

“I dunno,” mutters Crutchie, “I didn’t think we’d be on speaking terms right now.”

Jack blinks, and looks down at Crutchie. “Like I’d stop talkin’ to you over something like this?”

“Like the fact that I like boys, or the fact that I like you?” The question comes out of his mouth before he has time to stop it, and he almost wants to retract it. But Jack’s answer is given without hesitation and without a doubt in it.

“Both, nitwit. I mean, what a stupid thing to lose my best friend over.”

Crutchie laughs again, still mostly out of relief. He can tell Jack is smiling, even though he can't see Jack's face. 

"Yeah," says Crutchie, but says no more until Jack repeats his question.

“Don’t mean to push you too much, but really, what now?”

Crutchie sits up, looking Jack in the eyes before looking up at the sky and sighing. “I dunno. What do you think we should do now?”

“Well…” Jack trails off, and Crutchie looks back at him, and blinks when he nearly brushes Jack’s nose with his own. Jack doesn’t finish his sentence, but the message gets across without any words.

Hasn’t it always been that way with Jack and Crutchie?

It’s not entirely clear who moves in first, but suddenly Jack’s lips are on Crutchie’s and even though it only lasts a second it counts as one of the top ten moments of Crutchie’s life to date.

And then they’ve pulled apart, and Jack is searching Crutchie’s face for a reaction, brows furrowed in concern. There’s an unspoken question of whether that was okay, whether Jack overstepped somehow, and it occurs to Crutchie he needs to react with something other than shock. 

So he grabs Jack’s collar and pulls them together for a second time, and this time it’s _definitely_ longer than a second. Jack wraps his arms around Crutchie’s waist, and Crutchie’s hands move from Jack’s collar to clasp together behind his neck. Jack’s pulling him closer and Crutchie feels like he’s floating, that even though it’s happening right here, right now, he’s not fully connected to what’s happening.

When they do pull apart, Crutchie rests his head on Jack’s forehead, and laughs again, and Jack’s look of concern and worry finally disappears. 

Crutchie moves until he’s leaning against Jack, like he’s always done, and Jack’s hand grabs his. There’s no what now question; they both know they can’t have a relationship the way they could if one of them was a girl. They both know it can’t be public knowledge. 

But they both already know, sitting on the roof of the Lodging House in a silence more reassuring than any words could be, that neither of them care.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm, I ran out of Jack/Crutchie fics to read, which is usually when I start writing. This is mostly a big bundle of hoping I got the characters down alright; I don't think it's bad for a first shot at anything longer than three sentences, but I'm always up to take advice/criticism.


End file.
